Stab in the Dark (12 page)

“Maybe you can do more now.”

“Have you a plan, Paul? Anything to start on?” She sounded eager, as if hoping for atonement.

“I have a date with the Tinsleys,” Knox admitted. “Papa and daughter for dinner. Daughter afterward.”

“Business or pleasure?”

“Pleasant business,” he said. He laughed a little at the tartness in her tone. “And what do I do?”

“A little second story work for me,” he said. “You looked over Catlin’s room, now try the penthouse.”

“While you have them at dinner?”

“That’s right.”

“It’ll be easy if I can slip up there. That’s the hard part.”

“Do the best you can,” Knox said. He hoped that the assignment would keep her out of trouble for the evening. He thought that she was fairly safe if her disguise held up. He saw her to the door and watched her wobble away on her absurdly high heels. Just before leaving, she reached up and touched her fingertips to his cheek.

“Don’t forget the company motto tonight, Paul. Ethical in All Ways.”

Knox closed the door and went to the telephone. “Send Carl up with a rye and water,” he ordered. He sat down. Now all he could do was wait and hope that this hunch was worth something.

K
NOX
signed for the rye and water and then carefully laid a ten dollar bill on the check. He said, “What do you do for amusement here since they cleaned the town up?”

Carl looked at the ten dollars. “A couple of night clubs have pretty good shows. There’s the burlesque house, the bars.”

Carl kept looking at the money. Knox said, “I’m not a cop any longer. I’m asking for myself. This sitting around is getting boring.” He dropped a five on the ten and took the photographs from Salas out of his pocket.

“Someone slipped me these the other day. He told me to ask you about them.”

Carl looked at the pictures, then at the money. He licked his lips. “Who was it?”

Knox didn’t like the tone of voice but he could hardly blame Carl for being cautious and a little edgy. After all, Knox had been a policemen here at one time. He said, “One of the kitchen help I met while I was nosing around downstairs. Spanish looking type.”

Carl blurted, “That was Salas. He’s dead. Somebody beat his face in.”

“Christ,” Knox said. He looked down at the pictures. “On account of these?”

He was worried, afraid that Carl’s having the news might queer this whole end of his plan. But Carl relieved him fast enough. “I doubt it,” he said. “He probably was horsing around with some dame. He had a way with them.”

Knox brought the subject back to the pictures by holding one to the light. “So I see.”

Carl rubbed his hands on his trousers. “You want those? I know where you can get some better ones.”

Knox tossed the pictures on top of the money. “Is that what this Salas meant?” He sounded disappointed. “He didn’t say much, but I got the idea there was a live show where these came from.”

Carl took the pictures and the money. “Nah. It’s movies.”

“No live show, huh?”

“Not in this town.”

“Well,” Knox said. He sounded hesitant. “Hell, that’s better than nothing. Better than sitting around here or straining myself to pick up some chippie in a bar.”

Carl took out his wallet, placed the money inside, tucked the pictures away somewhere in his uniform, and took a small calling card from the wallet. He put a mark in one corner. “With the card, it’ll cost you twenty-five. Without it, you’d never get in.”

Knox took it. “What’s the mark for?”

“To show you got it from me,” Carl said. He still sounded a little worried. “If anything should happen, don’t let this kick back on me.”

“Hell, no.”

Nodding, Carl took the signed check and went out. Knox looked the card over. It said,
Pleasure Enterprise
, and gave an address in the northwest part of town. That surprised Knox. He had suspected something in the south end or even out of the city. Then he remembered the kitchen helper’s remarks about a traveling show. Still, if so why go to the trouble of printing a card?

It was one he couldn’t answer, just as he couldn’t answer the question about Carl’s attitude. He had a strong feeling that the bellhop had been acting a part, that his reluctance was feigned. It was nothing tangible but it made him wonder just how Carl would have got the card to him if Knox hadn’t asked.

It was nearly time to meet the Tinsleys. Knox put the card carefully away in his billfold and rose to change his clothes. He picked another flannel, this one charcoal. He wore dark shoes and as dark a tie and shirt as he thought he could get by with. He sorted the items from his other suit on the bed, chose some of them to go into the charcoal, added a few things from one of his suitcases, and went downstairs.

He waited only a moment and then the Tinsleys appeared. Tinsley was in a business suit but Natalie was wearing something that looked like a cross between a dinner gown and a cocktail dress. Whatever it was, it looked good on her. As she had last night, she made an asset of her boyish figure, of a slenderness that many a woman would have padded out. She came toward him, a hand outstretched, her features that reminded him of a kitten in a delighted smile.

“See, I’m all ready.”

Knox looked down on the short-cut, dark hair coiffed tonight in a kind of calculated wildness. His eyes went on past the straight nose, the full mouth, a surprisingly determined chin, the length of her slender, sheathed figure. “I see,” he said dryly.

He greeted Tinsley with a handclasp and then escorted them to the bar. Natalie and her father preferred bourbon to rye, otherwise he found them delightful companions. “I was surprised to hear you hadn’t flown to California after all,” Knox said. “Pleasantly surprised, as it turned out.”

“I got a report they had a wet track,” Tinsley said. “Neither one of us do well with a wet track.”

“So we went back to sleep,” Natalie admitted. She smiled at Knox. “And besides, we wanted to be sure and make the game tomorrow. I want to take the money we win from you and buy myself something with it.”

The conversation might have continued in the same fashion, aimless, telling Knox very little, except that a sudden squeal brought them all out of the intimacy of their conversation. Mrs. Renfrew stood by their table. Knox could not suppress a shudder. She wore an evening gown that tended to emphasize her lumpiness.

“Paulsy,” she said. “Mr. Paulsy, we meet again.”

Tinsley and his daughter both turned a bewildered look on Knox who was sitting with his mouth open. He came awake and rose. “The name is Knox,” he corrected. “Paul Knox.” He introduced the Tinsleys. “And this is Mrs. Renfrew, a new guest. She has a dog named Paulsy. That’s how we got acquainted.”

Natalie looked her over with frank amazement. “How interesting.”

Mrs. Renfrew smiled with her heavily made up lips. “Isn’t it. Mr. Paulsy—no, Mr. Knox was so sweet. Paulsy—the dog, I mean—just loves him.”

Tinsley was on his feet by this time. He looked at Knox and Knox shrugged his helplessness. Tinsley said with faint hope in his voice, “We’re just having a before-dinner drink, Mrs. Renfrew. Won’t you join us?”

“I’d love to,” she said. If she noticed Tinsley’s resigned expression, she gave no sign. Taking the chair Tinsley drew out for her, she giggled. “That’s what I really came for, of course. When one is alone, it gets lonesome. Don’t you think?”

Natalie said, “Er—yes. Are you traveling, Mrs. Renfrew?”

Mrs. Renfrew turned from ordering a drink called a Rum Hound and nodded. “Back and forth. Up and down. And once crosswise.”

“I don’t quite understand,” Tinsley said doggedly.

Mrs. Renfrew engulfed him with her smile. “But it’s very simple. I’m simply devoted to the Minnesota football team. I used to be engaged to one of the assistant coaches and I follow the boys everywhere. I just know they all think of me as a mascot.”

Knox thought, Oh no. He hoped that she could carry her bluff about football because Tinsley was obviously taking the bait. He said, “Minnesota isn’t playing here.”

“I’m scouting for them. They do play the University. I’m a sort of unpaid spy.”

Tinsley sounded almost jovial. “Well, I could help you on that. I’ve checked on the local club pretty thoroughly.” He began discussing the team technically. Knox listened just long enough to hear Mrs. Renfrew give as good as she took—and now he knew what she must have been reading in her spare time—and then he turned to Natalie.

“Natalie …”

“My close friends call me Nat,” she reminded him.

“Am I a close friend yet?”

“Since we’re going de—out together, of course you are.” She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide.

“They can’t even hear us,” Knox said. He let his smile warm her. “All right, Nat then. I was going to suggest that they might like to have a private pre-game dinner over their end runs and trap plays and that we go somewhere else. There’s a fine Chinese restaurant I know about.”

“Love it,” she said. With a quick motion, she drained her glass and rose. “We’ll leave you two in the huddle. So glad to have met you, Mrs. Renfrew.”

“I am too,” Mrs. Renfrew said. “Your brother is so charming. He knows a lot about
my
team.”

“Down to the last dollar,” Natalie assured her. Taking Knox’s arm, she walked away, ignoring her father’s look. Knox glanced back once. Tinsley and Mrs. Renfrew had their heads together and he was drawing a play on a bar napkin. Knox no longer wondered just how she would get into the penthouse, but he did wonder what she would do after she got there. Not even football would make Tinsley let her search the apartment. Then he remembered Catlin. He hoped Tinsley’s hangover from a mickey wouldn’t be quite as damaging.

“Do we take my car or yours?” Natalie asked as they went through the lobby.

“Yours, by all means,” Knox said. “I haven’t one here.”

Her car was in the drive-in garage, a long, sleek sports job that fit her somehow. She drove it expertly, twisting through the thinning evening traffic as he directed her out the through town boulevard. They turned west after leaving the central area, wound up a hill, and stopped at a restaurant that looked out over the Sound. The fog had lifted, although it remained cloudy, and the lights of the islands shone like faintly radiant strings of precious stones in the distance.

“It’s very nice,” she said. “I’ve never been here.”

“Another drink?”

“Not tonight.” She was very serious. “I want my wits about me. I’ve never detected before.”

“I hope it doesn’t bore you,” Knox said. He took a deep breath. “By the way, part of this you’ll have to do—alone. You don’t mind?”

“Uhm,” she said. She leaned toward him conspiratorially. “Will I be alone long?”

“Not long,” Knox assured her.

Natalie settled back, looking satisfied. Then she turned her attention to the menu as if it were the most important tiring in the world at that moment. Knox liked that quality about her. She seemed able to direct her attention to the affairs of the moment, put things in their proper place and perspective, and thoroughly enjoy herself with whatever she was doing. She had the zest of youth for things, yet she could be fully mature when necessity arose.

They ate well and not too rapidly. When he had finished the last of his coffee, he glanced at his watch and rose. “Now we start.” He felt her arm tuck into his. She squeezed. Then she tilted her face up. Knox could not help wondering if anyone could be as naive as she appeared at that moment. She was, he decided, a consummate actress. She would bear a deal of watching.

Knox directed her to drive east toward the lake and then south again. When they were on the street where Jock Dylan had lived, he had her go slowly while he scanned house numbers. He was also looking for police, but if Beeker had a man there, Knox saw no sign of him. Three houses past the one where Jock lived, he told her to pull up to the curb.

“It’s that house back there across the street. The one with the curtained view-window. I want you to watch it for me. Can you do that?”

“Just sit here and watch it?”

“Not quite, although that’s what a lot of detecting consists of. If anyone goes in or comes out, get as good a description as you can. There’s a porchlight so you should get a fair look. And if a little man, a little mouse of a man, appears—follow him. If you aren’t here when I get back, I’ll know you followed him. I’ll meet you in the hotel bar.”

“Where are you going, Paul?”

“I can tell you better when I get back.” He started to open his door and stopped, turning inquiringly when a hand fell on his arm.

She said, “I’m a little scared, Paul. Being alone like this.”

Somehow he couldn’t see her as the helpless type. He said only, “You’re safe enough. Just don’t take any risks.”

“It—it might not be safe. Don’t you think we should sort of say good-bye in case anything happened to one of us?”

It was a little girl’s appeal, and she did it very well. Knox said almost seriously, “I think we should.” He took the hand that was on his arm and drew her toward him. His other arm curved around her shoulder. The crown of her head came to rest against him. She turned so that her lips were up. Her eyes were nearly closed.

Knox kissed her. She had, he discovered, a most kiss-able mouth. Her lips were full and warm. And she did not clutch at him nor strain against him with a manufactured fervor as did some women he had known. The kiss was competent and friendly, with no particular hint or promise in it.

“Thank you,” she murmured, drawing away. “I feel quite comforted.”

Knox wondered if the subtle way she had located his gun was what comforted her or if she was merely laughing at him. He laughed back, silently. She was carrying something along her leg that was more than stocking or stocking supporter. He wished he had time to investigate more closely. With a grin he slid out of the car and started for the boulevard a block away. He wiped his lips with his handkerchief as he went.

Within five minutes he had a taxi. It took him to a garage he had contacted earlier. There he picked up the rental panel truck he had ordered and started off. He drove rapidly but carefully, checking his watch every now and then. He had little time to spare and he came up behind headquarters on the dot. Blinking his lights once, he drove on. A car with the lines of an ambulance started up behind him and followed. Knox let it go ahead at a stop light and dropped two car lengths behind it.

The car stopped on a dark street, half of houses, half of vacant lots. The driver got out, lighted a cigaret and strolled off down the block. Knox drew up alongside the other car, saw that the seat was empty and then backed around so that his rear was against that of the other. Getting out quickly, he opened the panel doors, opened those on the other car, and hastily slid a blanket shrouded figure from one to the other. He shuddered a little. Even as objective as he could be about Leo Auffer, the job was an unpleasant one.

He took a brief moment to use his pencil flash and make sure that it was Leo Auffer, and then he climbed beneath the wheel and drove away. In the rear view mirror, he saw the driver of the other car start back. The only sign of recognition was the arc of the cigaret as it was flipped away.

Knox was halfway to his destination when he realized that the other driver had not been Mel Beeker. He had had to enlist the aid of someone else. Knox hoped Beeker had got the right man. It would not be a happy situation if whoever it was turned out to be too close a friend of Maddy Keehan.